


Something New

by Munchy



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Abby really out here topping everyone in the gang, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom John, Dildos, F/M, First Time Bottoming, Guess what I researched this week~, No Beta, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Prostitution mentioned, Slight possessive behavior, Soft Dom Abigail is best Dom, Strap-Ons, That time Abigail realized that she may have feelings for John but won't admit it, Top Abigail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 02:44:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20900360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munchy/pseuds/Munchy
Summary: Abigail pinches her face, refusing to open her eyes and confront the man laying naked under her. After a few moments, he stops and she thinks that’s the end of it until he starts at it again. Worse, she can feel something hard poke at her thigh.She sighs, tilting her head and feeling her loose hair brush against her face, “Again, Marston?”





	Something New

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I really wanted this, and I'm surprised I haven't seen it around yet so... here you go!
> 
> Also, for those of you in the RDR fandom who keep writing about how dildos are a "new thing", please understand that you are factually wrong, and dildos have existed, and were known about since like... prehistoric times. Now the VIBRATOR on the other hand...
> 
> No beta here, only Grammarly!

Abigail isn’t the type to cuddle after sex. The idea of getting touchy, feely didn’t really suit her on account of her viewing sex as a business transaction. She did what she was paid to do, anything after the fact was unpaid overtime in her book. At least for the most part. Sometimes she did find herself enjoying the idea of using a customer as a giant pillow. Now that she could get behind.

Except if it’s John Marston she’s using as a personal cushion. And everything was going so well up until that point. Too bad John had to start wiggling like a bug caught under a newspaper. 

Abigail pinches her face, refusing to open her eyes and confront the man laying naked under her. After a few moments, he stops and she thinks that’s the end of it until he starts at it again. Worse, she can feel something hard poke at her thigh.

She sighs, tilting her head and feeling her loose hair brush against her face, “ _ Again _ , Marston?”

John stills, and without opening her eyes, Abigail can tell he’s as red as an apple, “Sorry…” he grumbles, “I can leave and take care of it—”

Abigail finally opens her eyes and lifts her head enough to get a decent look at the man under her. He’s flushed, just as she predicted, from the top of his head down to his naked chest. Abigail has a feeling that if she’d move, that blush would go down to his pelvis. Silly man.

John tries to hide his gaze under a mop of hair that’s more tangled and unruly than it normally is. Couple that with the way he bites his lower lip and his hands fidgeting against the blankets, Abigail has half a mind to call John Marston  _ cute _ of all things.

It’s a Goddamn crime to still look as bashful as that after _ three rounds _ .

“Out in the woods… In the middle of the night?” Abigail levels the man with an unamused look. 

“It ain’t like I haven’t done that before…” John looks away, pretending to be interested in the thread count of their discarded sheets.

She folds her arms over John’s chest, letting her chin rest on top, “You would, honestly, leave this tent, go rub one out in the woods at this God-forsaken hour, a good five miles from camp, instead of just asking me to help you take care of it,  _ because _ …?” 

John fidgets again. He readjusting himself, which only manages to poke Abigail again. She’d find it hilarious if John’s face didn’t manage to somehow get even redder, “This is supposed to be a break from camp and chores and—,” he fumbles, “Look, you obviously needed some rest, alright. Didn’t wanna wake you up for somethin’ like this when this is supposed to be an enjoyable break from all that.”

Something warm blossoms in Abigail’s chest at the confession. It brings a smile to her face, “How sweet,” she says before lifting herself up and pecking his cheek, letting her breasts graze across his skin, making him shiver, “And here I thought you kidnapped me for a wild night of passion.”

John sputters. It only makes her laugh and wonder if she’s gettin’ a little too sweet on him. Abigail was always told teasing was a slippery slope to the kinds of feelings she wasn’t willing to have. 

She decides quickly that she doesn’t really want to unpack that particular train of thought and gets up from the cot in one fluid motion. She sees John raise a brow at her, and she soothes his worries with a finger to his lips. 

“Now, I can’t just leave you like this,” she says as she boldly grazes her palm against his now bared cock.

John hums a groan before giving her a reluctant look, “Abigail…” he murmurs against her finger, “You don’t have to—”

“Don’t be silly, Mr. Marston. I’m not likely to have another go for the rest of the night with the way you put me through my paces.” The teasing grin she gives him pulls a rough sound from him, like a cough stuck in his throat, “Don’t you get shy on me now! Figured you’d be proud of such a feat.” Abigail giggles as she walks towards the basket she brought with her earlier that day.

Truth be told, when John asked her to go with him on his next hunting trip, she took that to mean exactly what she thought it meant. Plenty of men in camp try to be subtle about the way they ask to fuck her. They always manage to do it so poorly, it never fails to make her laugh. John though, when he asks, he always tries to be sweet about it. And damn if Abigail didn’t like that. 

Perhaps that’s why she brought along a little surprise this time around.

Abigail hums as she searches through her basket, making herself sound playful to tease the other. She can hear John shuffling behind her.

“I don’t exactly get what you mean, Ms. Roberts. You say you wanna take care of me, but you can’t go another round?” he laughs, the rasp of his voice sending a shudder down Abigail’s spine.

She remains silent until she finds what she’s looking for and takes it out. She stands and turns, displaying all her naked glory before giving John a raised brow and a lopsided grin while she holds something long in her hand. It’s currently wrapped in a cloth, but that doesn’t stop John from eyeing it with a worried curiosity. 

She giggles, “That’s why I’ve got myself a little helper.”

She walks to him as she unwraps a long wooden object that’s about eight inches long from base to tip. Recognizing the shape the object is carved into, John sits straight up, “Uhmm…” 

Abigail shushes him as she sits on the edge of the cot, finishing her unraveling, “I got it years ago when I caught the eye of some Parisian Dandy. He gave it to me as a gift,” she explains as she holds it out to John. 

The carved piece of wood has been carefully made into a rigid cock, there was no other way of colorfully describing it to John. The poetics would have been lost on him anyway with the way he’s staring at it. Eye’s wide and face flushed. It’s a handsome look on him, Abigail thinks. 

“Well go on,” she says, wiggling it at him, “It ain’t gonna bite ya.” John hesitates for a moment as he looks back and forth between her and the wooden cock. Eventually, he reaches out, carefully running his fingers against the surprisingly smooth and finished grain. 

“I’m still…” John stutters for a moment as the pad of his fingers reach the head and finds ridges there, mimicking foreskin. He swallows, “I still ain’t sure how a marital aid is gonna solve my current predicament,” he finished around a not-so-confident grin.

She feels her smile go lopsided again as she leans in, one of her hands resting over his thigh while she whispers into his ear, “Now, Mr. Marston… I know you’re smarter than that.”

The unmistakable twitch she feels against her wrist is as good an answer as any.

Still, he sputters, “I—”

Abigail leans back and has the prestigious honor of seeing the prettiest pink she’s ever seen painted across John’s cheeks. She smiles, “What? People in camp seem to like it.”

She watches him cough, “What?  _ Who?!” _

“Hmm,” she tilts her head like she’s actually giving it thought, “Well, Karen certainly liked it.” John blinks, mouth open as he’s about to say something, but she beats him to the punch, “Then there’s Bill.”

The rasp of his voice goes high as John squawks, “ _ Bill?! _ ”

“Oh! And Arthur too!” Abigail says in absolute delight, watching his mouth slack open.

“A-Arthur?!”

“It took some time for him to come around to the idea of it, but he didn’t complain when—”

John covers his ears and, like a child, starts drowning out Abigail’s voice, “ _ Nope! _ No! I get it! _ I get it! _ You don’t have to continue!”

She starts laughing like Pearson then, something deep and with a little, ugly snort at the end of it. It’s enough to get John to tentatively lower his hands and laugh with her. By the time they’re done, both of them are leaning into each other, basking in each other’s warmth. 

Yet despite the warm and tender moment, Abigail feels John’s cock give another twitch as she starts messaging his thigh. She detangles herself from John almost reluctantly and gives him a wicked grin.

“So, how about it, cowboy?” She says, voice low and alluring.

John flushes, eyes avoiding hers before he nods. She smiles sweetly and gently starts placing a line of kisses along his stubbled jaw. When she reaches his lips, she tugs his bottom lip with her teeth, hearing John groan. She fumbles with the cloth used to wrap up the wooden cock, pulling out a small porcelain vial and twisting the cloth until it’s a long rope.

She begins nipping at John’s pulse point against his neck, distracting him as she secures the soft rope around the base of the carving, where there’s a large wooden disk. Eventually, Abigail has to separate herself from him as she ties the phallic object around her hips and thighs comfortably.

“Have you ever done this before?” She asks him patiently. Looking up once she’s done to find John licking his lips, avoiding her gaze. She smiles gently, finding his sudden shy demeanor enduring. Abigail places her hand against John’s arm, prompting him to look at her. 

After a short pause, John tilts his head back and forth, thinking, “Not… Not like this, no. I’ve only ever used my— uhh… fingers before,” he murmurs, “Never been with a man neither, if you were wondering.”

“You ever use oil, or just spit?” She asks quietly, keeping her surprise at the admission to herself. 

She watches him blush again, “Uh, just spit.”

Abigail kisses him lightly, something warm and reassuring, “Oh you poor boy. Let me show ya what you’ve been missin’.”

She leans back and takes the vial in her hand, while the other rubs against his thigh, careful not to touch his painfully red cock. Pouring some oil onto her hand, she spreads it against her fingers. She kneels between John’s legs, prompting him to spread them as she rubs the oil between her hands. John gives her a slightly nervous look which she kisses away as she leans forward and grips his cock.

She hears a moan rumble through his chest, prompting her to slowly trace her fingers along the shaft and toying with the head. She takes her other hand and begins rubbing along his taint, eliciting a small whimper from him, a sound that utterly  _ delights _ her. 

She continues with her ministrations, grip firm as she slides it along John’s cock in slow strokes while her other hand circles that ring of muscles with feather-light touches. When John’s labored breaths begin to hitch and his cock starts leaking, she finally pushes a single finger in. It’s an easy slide, one that has John’s head tipping back onto the pillow with a loud moan. 

Abigail chuckles against his straining neck, planting open mouth kisses against the bite marks she left earlier. She carefully slides that finger in and out of him until his chest is heaving. Abigail slides in a second along with first, spreading them slightly. The stretch makes John whine, a sound that’s so unlike his usual husk, and it brings a flush high on Abigail’s cheeks knowing she’s the cause of it. 

After what feels like an eternity, she finally crooks her fingers and drags along his walls. John’s whole body twitches before a long groan leaves his lips.

“A-Abby… Darlin’”, he pants. The endearment brings a warm smile to Abigail’s face.

“You like that?” She asks softly. She’s given another reedy moan as an answer. She chuckles again and adds a third finger which makes John’s legs jerk further apart.

“Feels good,” John whines, his hands fisting into the blankets and sheets beneath them, “R-real good. Never— Never really felt that before…” John admits, breath coming fast. 

Abigail kisses him on the lips, tongue dipping in to slide against his for a moment before parting, “I’m glad,” she says then, nuzzling into his neck. After some time, in which she has to grip the base of John’s cock for fear of him finishing too early, she pushes in a fourth finger. At the stretch, John arches off the bed with a soft cry.

Abigail giggles, finding that she very much enjoys this side of John. She again peppers him with kisses and bites marks along his neck and chest until he’s completely marked up. Claiming him as hers and hers alone. A tad bit possessive, she’ll admit, but it brings a sudden sense of pride knowing she managed to make John feel this good.

When John starts sweating, and every breath comes out as a whimper, Abigail slides out her fingers and gives him another slow kiss. She grabs the vial of oil and carefully drizzle it on the wooden cock, which has been, up until the point, left to warm up between her thighs.

After rubbing the oil into the sleek wood, she gently takes John’s hands and places them above his head with a silent command to grip the pillow beneath him. Once she’s gotten a nod, she takes his legs and brings them up to wrap around her hips before gripping his. Leaning forward, she lines herself up, making John’s breath hitch. She kisses along his jaw as she slowly slides in. 

John’s reaction is instant, throwing his head back with a drawn-out moan that’s high and reedy. Abigail watches carefully as his face becomes flushed and curses leave his mouth.

“Okay?” She asks quietly. She can feel John heaving against her cheek as his eyes flutter open to look at her. Abigail hums at how blown out his pupils are and the way he stares at her reverently. He takes a deep breath, biting his bottom lip, and nods at her. Abigail smiles and lightly pecks his cheek.

She slides out the couple of inches she managed to get in before gently thrusting forward. Abigail repeats this over and over again until John can’t take anymore. Each time diving in a little further. Each time, being rewarded with John’s breathless whimpers and moans. It’s a melody she’s coming to like more and more the longer they spend together. 

“A-Abby,” John moans, “Ple—  _ ease _ , darlin’— I’m… I’m close.” Abigail watches him beg with trembling limbs and, honest to God, drool hanging from his mouth. His body twitches as she adjusts her angle, slowly pistoning in and out of him. Seeing him this way, all flushed and needy, brings a warm feeling in her chest that makes her heart stutter. 

She  _ did that _ to him, and she’d do it again and again until he stopped asking, she realizes.

She quickly buries the feeling and shushes him, leaning forward and planting kisses against his collar bone. Suddenly, she hooks her arm under his knees and hikes them up further, eliciting another drawn-out whine from him. Abigail’s careful as she picks up speed, thrusting against that spot that makes him call out her name like a prayer. 

Feeling the heat rise between then, and hearing the way John’s moans grow louder with each thrust, Abigail reaches between them and takes hold of John’s neglected cock. She times her strokes with her thrusts, aided by the precome that drools out it. 

It only takes a few pumps before John finishes with a cry, her name on his lips as he arches off the cot. She can feel his body go taught against her as she gently rocks her hips back and forth, milking him for all he’s got. Laying claim to something that ain’t really hers, but somewhere deep within her, wants that to be the case. 

As John comes back to himself, going boneless and heaving like he just tried to keep pace with a horse, she slowly slides out of him. His grunts shushed away as she peppers his face with kisses once again. He stays like that, legs spread and stomach trembling as she quickly cleans them up with a rag. She unties her improvised harness and places her wooden “marital aid”, as John called it, away to be washed later. 

After all is said and done, Abigail lays back on top of John, just as she was before, and cards her fingers through his hair. His breathing has evened out and his body is no longer shaking by the time he finally opens his eyes, giving her an unfocused look. She smiles coyly at him.

“How was that?” She asks.

John hums and blinks, obviously having trouble speaking. She chuckles at him before kissing him sweetly. John wraps his arms around her and nuzzles into her hair, breathing deeply. 

“I wouldn’t mind doin’ that again if I’m honest,” he says, voice rough, “If you’re up for it, that is?”

Abigail lets herself be embraced by John’s warmth, relaxing against him, and says, “I’d be delighted, Mr. Marston.”


End file.
